Jolene

I didn’t plan to become a superhero, but all that changed when I got bit by a hooker down at the pier down on Southport. Her teeth feel like a sheered Budweiser can. She locks her arms around my throat. I feel her tiny frame on my back, her heals on my legs. Her wheeze is like … More Jolene

Crazy

This trailer ain’t but so big, and with four girls, it’s all I can do to keep them from fighting every day. It’s summertime, hot, and they mope around, a hurricane of blonde heads, whining, complaining about how they’re bored, painting my toenails and hogging the TV. Otherwise just being pests. If only I’d had … More Crazy

Homework

*Click to hear this story read over at Immortal Works.   I take my desk roughly two minutes after the bell rings. I start by flipping through a Vonnegut novel that makes hardly more sense than my profession. They trickle in, slow, casual, all with that strut and a laugh. The shield that masks the … More Homework

The Hero

I woke up, jolted by the cry of my mother’s distress. Her shrieks came in rhythm, rising and a falling, and for a while, at the groggy edge of my slumber. At first I was neither awake or asleep, inbetween dreams and I that someone was in there, just down the hall, torturing my mother. It wasn’t … More The Hero

Trebeked

Alex Trebek rambles on, another gracious anecdote that carries us through commercial break. I’d always thought these little chat-ups were fake, but the guy is full of himself, extolling the virtues of Malaysian fruits to the giggly delight of Sue, a teacher from Milwaukee. My mike pack digs into my sweaty back. It’s the first taping … More Trebeked

Dinner Theater

“You’ll never get me to tell you where the jewels are.” Mom’s little party is popping. Candles, wine, drunk wannabe writers. Mom-the-truly-awful-playwright likes to get buzzing and have people “bring her writing to life.” Now, Sci-Fi-Eddie is fending off the advances of Lydia-the-memoir-writer. Eddie’s taken the role of Clyde Clisbee, a down on his luck … More Dinner Theater

The Assignment

“My life is not an original song. But the words are all my own.  I don’t know about this.” Heather looked up from her notes. “No?” Chase Chaplin. In her apartment, on editor’s orders. He turned back to her fourth story window. “I was hoping for more of a punch, you know?” Heather set the … More The Assignment